The Call of the Moon
by WhipOfLightHeartOfSword
Summary: When Byakuya is bitten while trying to track down a werewolf that's been terrorizing the Rukon, Renji must race to find a cure for the supposedly incurable curse, or be forced to watch the captain he's falling in love with be executed. Yaoi
1. Chapter 1

**~*~The Call of the Moon~*~**

**By: WhipOfLightHeartOfSword**

**Rated: Strong R**

**World: Semi-AU, during the Winter War. We're just going to pretend this is like the movies - we know it takes place sometime before Ichigo loses his powers, we just don't know _when_ exactly, lol. **

**Pairings: Renji/Byakuya (main)**

**Feedback: Yes please, but no flames.**

**Warnings: Yaoi- don't like don't read. Also gore, it _is_ a werewolf fic after all. *grin***

**Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo, Shonen Jump, etc., not me. This is a not-for-profit fanwork. The "Princess Wolf" is a classic werewolf tale that can be found in various versions around the internet. I merely borrowed it and embellished my own version. **

**Summary: In Soul Society werewolves are categorized alongside hollows as enemies, and the Gotei 13 have a long-standing order to slay any that are discovered on sight. For those unfortunate enough to be bitten, only death at the hands of their once-comrades awaits them. When ravaged corpses begin turning up just outside the Rukon, Renji and Byakuya are sent to investigate the rumors that a werewolf is the cause. To their horror, the rumors not only prove to be true, but just as lethal as legends say, as during an attempt to kill the beast, Byakuya is bitten. Renji finds himself faced with a desperate situation. Find a cure for a curse claimed to be incurable, or be forced to watch the captain he's begun to fall in love with be executed.**

**Author's Note: Welcome everyone, to my very first Halloween-inspired Bleach fic! I've always felt this show—being one about the afterlife and all—would offer up some especially awesome fun around this time of year, and sure enough, the muse didn't hold back in handing me three very juicy, or should I say 'bloody', bunnies. So, readers of my other works voted, and this was the bunny chosen to be the priority fic, as sadly my schedule's too busy to guarantee I can get to all three stories at this time. But regardless if you are one of the people who voted, or a newcomer to my writing, I invite you now to kick back and settle in for some good ol' Squad Six creature-feature fun. Enjoy!**

**(Two things I forgot to mention- 1. FFnet's once again fighting me with formatting. Please forgive the random omissions of spaces between italicized words, and italicized/non-italicized words. 2. This is not going to be an OC-dominated fic. But there is a trend of gratuitous psychics shouting 'doom!' at people in werewolf movies that I find amusing, and I couldn't resist incorporating it into the opening chapter. ^_^U)**

**~*~Chapter 1~*~**

To most of the neighborhood, the old woman was simply one of those people who had a fascination for the paranormal and mythological. But considering that she had made her career teaching literature and world mythology, it was merely assumed that her love of the subject had gone far beyond her job, and still brought her much-needed entertainment even in her retirement years. Unbeknownst to them, the matronly scholar was far from a mere repertoire of ancient trivia and medieval folklore. 75-year-old Nakamura Makoto was a real life medium with a genuine gift for seeing and speaking to the dead, and ever since an unfriendly spirit had lured her off the roof of her childhood home (resulting in a severe head injury and week-long coma), she had also been able to catch glimpses of events that had not yet come to pass.

Of course, even if she had been of a mind to tell anyone—and she wasn't, after so many years of being shunned and ridiculed by her peers during her youth—it was unlikely most of her neighbors would have believed her. To the modern, scientific-minded society, psychic abilities were something exclusive to stories of fiction. This belief suited her just fine, as it allowed her an easy means to hide and live a normal life with her family.

For years she simply gave a discrete nod to the spirits she passed on the street, and left it at that. As a young professional she'd build her career without anyone questioning her competence and using it as cannon fodder to oust her from her place in the world of male academia. As a mother she'd taken careful precautions to appear especially ordinary, so she wouldn't accidentally brand her children as targets for the ridicule of others as she once had been, and gave a quiet sigh of relief when it became apparent neither of her girls had inherited her abilities. And finally, as an elderly woman enjoying retirement, she found that the quiet life of a hobby gardener and resident folklore expert was much nicer than risking being saddled with the moniker of 'Old Witch'. If her much deplored 'gift' of foresight so happened to send hera vision of something that bothered her, she would do her best to put it out of her mind, lest she cause something terrible to happen in her efforts to try and prevent it in the first place.

For almost sixty years the strategy worked, and people never seemed to think the slightest thing about her was anything but normal.

That is, until the day the Kurosaki family had moved into the house next door, and opened up their private clinic.

From the moment she'd first laid eyes on Kurosaki Isshin, Makoto had known that he was no ordinary human being. And from the way that he had held her eyes as she and her husband stood greeting the newcomers, she could tell that Isshin was likewise aware that there was more to her than she let on.

At the time of that first meeting, Isshin's wife had been seven months along with their firstborn, and Makoto had been almost overwhelmed with the barrage of images she had received of what the future might have in store for the little one. Images of a ginger-haired youth dressed in old-fashioned black garb wielding a massive sword. A frightening trio dressed in white, surrounded by sand and masked monsters as they gathered beneath a night sky. A jewel of great, malevolent power. And finally, a large group of people armed with swords and all dressed in the same old-fashioned garb, standing atop a towering hill overlooking a vast city.

For the first time in her life, Makoto had felt driven to find a moment to speak with her new neighbor alone, believing he needed to be warned of the strange destiny that awaited his son.

Except that Isshin was hardly surprised by what she had to say. He calmly explained to her his past as a guardian of the afterlife, and that it was likely any children of his would inherit such powers as well. He also didn't seem surprised at her mention of the jewel, or the three men surrounded by monsters.

"Those three are responsible for my friend having to live his life in hiding," he'd said solemnly, happy demeanor darkening for a moment. "The day's going to come when they'll get theirs, don't worry."

Frightening as the shinigami's tale was, Makoto had never been able to put into words how wonderful it was to be able to confide in someone about her visions, and since that day the two had remained close friends. Makoto had readily offered herself as a babysitter during the tough years following Masaki's death when Isshin had to work long hours and his children were too young to care for themselves. In return, the Kurosaki kids had become something of surrogate grandchildren for her to spoil; something the old woman enjoyed, as her biological grandchildren lived too far away for her to see very often.

And so it was one fine fall afternoon, almost sixteen years later, that she found herself kneeling in her beloved rose garden, weeding and setting down fertilizer to give the plants as much nutrition as possible before the winter weather set in. A few late blooms had opened, and she snipped them to bring into the house so her table could be decorated with that last breath of summer while it lasted.

"Nakamura-obaasan!"

The elderly woman raised her head and looked towards the front gate of her home, where the younger of the Kurosaki girls was holding a Tupperware and waving.

"Ah, Yuzu-chan. Come in!" she smiled brightly. Yuzu unlatched the gate and hurried over.

"I brought cinnamon cookies!" she beamed, opening the container and proudly displaying its contents.

"Mmm, they smell heavenly," Makoto complimented, as the warm scent reached her nostrils. It was obvious the batch hadn't been out of the oven long. "Why don't we go inside and enjoy them while they're still hot?"

"Okay!"

Pulling off her garden gloves, Makoto eased herself up onto her feet, bones creaking in protest from her having knelt in the dirt for the better part of an hour. She smirked wryly at herself. Once upon a time she could have spent hours tending her prized roses without feeling a thing. Now even the act of getting on and off her knees was a difficulty. Ah, the nuisance that was old age.

Beside her Yuzu watched discretely, knowing the old woman wouldn't appreciate an offer of help, but ready anyway if her friend showed signs of needing it. Once she was up the two of them made their way inside.

Putting her gloves on a table near the entrance way, Makoto watched as Yuzu put the Tupperware down on the table, and politely took her seat as her host retrieved two mugs and plates, and put a kettle on to make tea. Having the girl stop in was a wonderful reprieve from the long hours of solitude that came with being a widow, but Makoto couldn't shake the sudden feeling of something dark lurking just at the edge of her senses, and it concerned her.

"Obaasan, is everything alright?"

Makoto shook her head and smiled, realizing that she had zoned out for a moment. "It's nothing, dear. I'm pleased to tell you that you won't be getting any dire predictions of doom from me today!"

Yuzu giggled. It was a long-standing joke between them, since Yuzu had once pointed out that psychics in movies seemed only to be used as a means of giving dire predictions of doom to those poor characters meant to become victims of the creature the heroes were meant to defeat. To a woman with a real psychic ability, it was a strangely appreciated opportunity to joke around about her own abilities without rousing Yuzu's suspicions.

"Well that's good. I'm supposed to be participating in a storytelling contest next week. It'd be hard for me to do that if I was busy running for my life!"

Makoto chuckled as she brought the now-boiling water over to the table and poured it into their cups. "Indeed. Have you given any thought as to what kind of story you're going to tell?"

Yuzu shook her head. "I thought I might tell a ghost story, but I haven't been able to think of one that's any good."

The old woman looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you should tell a Western folktale. There are plenty of classic stories I know that your classmates may not be familiar with. It might help you if you told one they didn't know, so they wouldn't have any preconceived expectations of how the story should be told."

Yuzu's face brightened with excitement. As a little girl she'd loved listening to her neighbor tell stories, and even though she was getting older and was more than capable of looking them up to read for herself, there was just something about a good old-fashioned story-telling that she'd never get tired of. Especially when the teller was as passionate and engaging as Makoto was.

"Ohh, could you tell me one about a vampire? Or maybe a werewolf! They're so popular, but all the new stories about them are so similar. Are the classic folktales any different?"

The old woman smiled and gazed upwards as she thought carefully. "Some of them are. Certain details common in the old stories have fallen out of popularity in recent years. For example- did you know it was common practice at one time to wedge a brick into a corpse's mouth to stop them from rising as a vampire?"

The youngest Kurosaki looked skeptical. "They really did that when they buried people?"

Makoto nodded. "Sometimes. I remember a news article from a few years back that such a corpse had been discovered."

"Ewww," Yuzu grimaced wryly. "That makes me almost glad I'll be cremated. But vampires have been really overdone lately, so how about werewolves? What do the old folk stories have to say about them?"

The old woman chuckled. "Well, there was the story about the Princess Wolf. That one's fairly straightforward and short, so it should work just fine if all you have is a few minutes in front of your peers."

"Oohh, please tell!" Yuzu said excitedly.

Makoto smiled and began. "A long, long time ago, a King invited a Nobleman to go hunting with him. The Nobleman bid good day to his wife, and left to join the King. They rode through the forest all day, but neither managed to catch anything of particular note. Finally, just as they were about to turn for home, the Nobleman spotted a large, magnificent wolf with fur as gold as the sun. Of course this was better than any other prize he or the King could have hoped to bring home, so they chased the wolf, each eager to be the one to claim its life."

Yuzu looked disappointed. "You mean, they find a beautiful animal and all they want to do is kill it," she stated glumly. Stories of senseless violence weren't really to her liking, not if it meant hearing about cruel men killing some poor creature just because it looked unusual.

Makoto placed a comforting hand over hers. "Many people in this day and age would be of the same mind as you, child. But ours is a society that has begun to realize that it's often better to preserve than destroy. Back then, the one who slew an unusual beast was considered a hero, and those who let it live were considered cowardly and weak."

"That's so stupid," Yuzu sighed unhappily. "So what happened to the wolf?"

"The chase went on for more than an hour. The Nobleman and his King feared they might lose the beast entirely, because their horses were getting tired and the wolf was leading them further and further into the denser part of the forest, where it was too difficult and dangerous for the horses to run, and of course the men could never follow the beast on foot. Finally, though, the wolf itself tripped on a tree root, and tumbled forwards onto its back. The Nobleman was following just behind, and as he galloped by he gave a mighty swing of his sword."

"And?" Yuzu asked, looking as if she thought she knew the answer.

"Sadly for the Noble, his sword missed the wolf's head, but managed to catch its left front paw. The wolf screamed and leapt back to its feet and ran three-legged into the underbrush. The Nobleman and his King decided it would be too difficult to try and follow it, but the Nobleman had succeeded in cutting off the wolf's left foot, so they simply picked up the golden paw and placed it into a bag to bring home."

"Was that it?"

Makoto shook her head. "The Nobleman invited the King to his home to have supper and rest, where they could tell his wife and serfs all about the magnificent hunt for the wolf. But when they returned, the Nobleman's wife refused to come to dinner, claiming she was ill. Undeterred, the Nobleman proceeded to tell his story. When the castle residents asked to see his trophy, he reached into the bag to take out the wolf's paw, only to find that the bag didn't contain a paw at all! Inside was a human hand, wearing a wedding ring just like the one that belonged to the Nobleman's wife! Outraged, the Nobleman ran up to their bedchamber and threw open the door. There by the fire sat his beautiful, golden-haired wife, cradling the stump where her left hand used to be. When questioned she confessed to being the wolf he and the King had chased. Of course, the King couldn't very well allow a confessed werewolf to live, and so she was hanged, and the Nobleman commended for his aid in rooting out the deadly threat."

"What a horrible story!" Yuzu exclaimed. "What kind of guy was he, allowing his wife to be killed? Didn't he love her at all?"

"Love really doesn't bear much weight in these stories, I'm afraid," Makoto shrugged sadly. "People genuinely feared werewolves, and the King would have been seen as negligent had he allowed her to live. As for the Nobleman, you can't expect him to defy the King in the man's very presence! Had his wife's secret been exposed in a more private setting, he might have been able to hide her. But as it was, if he had tried to save her he would only have joined her on the gallows, and then the people he governed could have been put in jeopardy as other nobles fought over his abandoned territory. The lives of any other living relatives he had could have also been put in peril, as doubt would be cast over their trustworthiness."

"Ugh," Yuzu shook her head. "That's still disgusting, and whoever came up with that story was still a sick jerk! I don't want to tell a story like that!"

Makoto shrugged neutrally. Classical fairytales weren't typically happy stories. She couldn't change them without having to admit to the girl to having 'Disney-fied' them, but that still wouldn't make them any more to Yuzu's taste. Either the child would have to accept them as they were—as warnings and tales of triumphs over old monsters people once had very real fears of—or she'd have to go looking for a new genre of stories to use in her contest.

"If you dislike this type of story so much, I'm sure I can dig up a fable or something with a less bloody ending," she offered.

"No thanks, Obaasan," Yuzu declined, standing and leaving the rest of the cookies on the table. "I think I'll visit the library and see what they have. I'll let you know what I find."

It wasn't exactly the most polite way to leave things, but the old woman was far beyond the age where such things affronted her anymore. If the girl wanted to look elsewhere for a happier story, then so be it.

"Good luck then, my dear. Let me know how things turn out," she called as Yuzu left.

"Sure thing, Obaasan," the girl called back, before the door closed behind her.

Makoto polished off a few more of the cookies by herself before taking up her gloves again and finishing the chores she'd started in the garden. Seeing that it was getting late, she went inside and washed up before making a light dinner of souba noodles for herself. After dinner she settled into her favorite chair, and picked up the anthology she'd been enjoying another re-read of for the past few nights. She'd only been reading for about a quarter of an hour when weariness got the better of her and she dropped off.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was to see the friendly yet saddened eyes of Kurosaki Isshin looking down at her. As she sat up, she noticed several things that were out of place. One, the man had never taken it upon himself to enter her home of his own accord, and second he was wearing that strange black uniform he'd once called a shihakushou. Third, she felt more energized and vibrant than any nap had left her for a number of years. Looking down at herself, she was both unsurprised and yet a bit saddened to see the reason why.

From her chest hung the broken end of a chain, and as she turned to look behind her, she could see the other end dangling from the unmoving chest of her aged body.

"I guess I don't need to ask you what happened," she said as she returned her gaze to Isshin, deciding she'd seen enough of her own corpse.

He smiled sadly. "No, I didn't think you would."

"So what happens now?" Makoto asked, a twinge of fear of the unknown worming its way into her chest.

"Now you and I say our goodbyes, and I perform what we shinigami refer to as a konsou. That will give you safe passage into the afterlife," Isshin answered. "You keeping your powers as hidden as possible shielded you while you were alive, but now that you're dead a hollow will see you as a very tempting snack. At least in the Soul Society you'll be safer, especially if you offer your services as a clairvoyant to the Shinigami Academy. That'll probably be your best bet for survival there."

"Survival? I thought it was your job to send me to Heaven!" Isshin had explained the concept of hollows to her years ago, after one such monster had attacked his family and touched off the destiny she had foreseen for Ichigo, but nothing he'd ever said had led Makoto to believe her soul would be in danger even after she'd reached the World of the Dead!

The shinigami chuckled. "Oh, the afterlife's way more interesting than white clouds and angel wings, I assure you! But don't be frightened, you'll be fine. I'm going to send you to the Soul Society, and all souls enter into a part of it called the Rukon. Because you lived an honest life you're more likely to be sent to an area that's friendlier, but because your powers are the kind that'll likely stick with you even after death, I'm going to suggest you look up the Shinigami Academy once you get there. Souls with power need food, and you'll have to earn the means to get it once you arrive. The shinigami are also a bit suspicious of people with abilities like yours, so I'd recommend it also as a gesture of good faith to help you stay out of trouble."

The poor newly dead woman's head was spinning with the barrage of information, and she wasn't at all happy to have her hopes dashed that her foresight was an affliction that would only last while she was alive. At the same time she trusted Isshin, and considering how little she knew about what she was in for, her best bet would be to appreciate any advice he could give her, and take as much advantage of it as possible.

"Alright, just, please let your kids know how much I'll miss them, will you? I left them each something in my Will, but it's not the same as a real goodbye."

"Sure thing," Isshin agreed. "Thank you, Nakamura-obaasan, for everything you've done for us over the years. We're really going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you all as well, Kurosaki-san," her eyes misted a bit, realizing it was possible she'd never see him or his family again. "If you ever decide to come back to this 'Soul Society' you're sending me to, I'd love it if you'd try to find me."

"I will," he promised, as he drew his sword and raised it. Makoto gave the weapon a look of alarm.

"You're not going to cut me with that thing, are you?"

Isshin chuckled and shook his head. "Nope. This blade's only meant for evil spirits. You, obaasan, are simply going to have the seal on the hilt stamped on your forehead. Then the spell will do the rest of the work."

"Alright," she tried very hard to put on a brave face as the end of the sword's handle came towards her face. A wave of relief swept over her as it merely pressed gently into her forehead for a brief moment, followed by another wave of cool peacefulness and calm. Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a friendly white light, listening to the echoes of Isshin's last goodbye as he and her home faded from view.

When the light dissipated, she found herself standing in the middle of a dirt street, greeted by a sight unlike any she'd seen outside of historical movies.

All around her people dressed in kimono carrying bags and baskets of goods walked to and fro. Merchants had their tables set up on the sides of the streets beneath strings of hanging lanterns, calling out their wares and prices in a currency she wasn't at all familiar with. Children ran wild and mostly barefoot in groups, some teasing stall owners while others snitched items and darted away into the throng with them. Nowhere in any of the commotion was there a single electronic device to be seen. No electric streetlamps, no cars, no cell phones… nothing! It was as though she'd stepped back in time more than a hundred years.

Looking down she noticed that she herself was dressed in a plain rust-colored kimono, with simple straw sandals on her feet. Even more shocking, however, was the fact that she didn't seem to be an old lady anymore! Rather than sagging, wrinkled, and covered in mottled age marks, her skin was once again creamy smooth and firmly set against arms that looked like they should belong to a twenty-year-old. Her waist was once again trim, her joints no longer creaked, her back was straight, her breasts weren't sagging, and the hair she could see resting against her shoulders was the deep auburn she hadn't seen since grey had overtaken it in her late-forties. Reaching up tentatively to feel her face, she was amazed and excited to feel the smooth, firm lines that had replaced the sagging jowls of her 75 year old self.

Eager to see with her own eyes, she rushed over to a stall where a man was selling silver goods, and picked up a shiny charger plate. Her reflection made her break out into a huge grin, as the long-lost face of her early twenties smiled back at her.

"I'm young again…" she sighed with wonder and appreciation.

"You're new here, right?"

Startled, Makoto looked up to see the kindly face of the silver merchant waiting patiently for an answer.

"Um, yes. I was just kon…"

"Konsoed?" he supplied. "You look like it. I noticed you seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and people with spiritual powers tend to regress in age when they cross over so the Gotei can get the maximum use out of them as shinigami."

"Gotei?" she asked. She knew Isshin had mentioned the word before, but that was all. He'd been willing to talk to her about her visions while she was alive, but maintained that he wasn't allowed to reveal much about the afterlife, the shinigami, or the mysterious organization they belonged to, which she had surmised was some sort of military based on the vague details she'd gleaned.

"Yup," the merchant nodded. "Come on, I was thinking about packing up for the night anyway," he pulled a tarp over his wares and secured it, before offering her a friendly arm. "I'll take you to the pub just over yonder, and explain everything over dinner. You'll need to know what you're in for before anyone notices you're Academy material. Shinigami life may be for some, but smart folk'll tell you beware before you go making it known you have abilities. You may think it's as simple as not signing up if you don't feel it's the life for you, until someone decides you're too powerful for their liking, and that if you didn't join the Gotei then you must be up to no good."

Not having any idea of anywhere else she could go, Makoto followed the man into the surprisingly bright and clean Edo era establishment, where a waitress ushered them over to a table and set menus down in front of them before scampering off to take another customer's order. Over the next hour or so, she listened to the man, Ryunousuke, as she learned his name was, talk about the pros and cons and ins and outs of life in the Gotei 13.

"You seem to know an awful lot for someone who's not a shinigami," she remarked at one point. She didn't sense anything sinister coming from the man, but she did think it odd that someone who was not in the military would know so much about it.

"You can thank my little brother for that, maam," he grinned proudly. "I may not be a shinigami, but he is. Member of Squad 13, as it were. He comes down here every week and we share a drink and catch up with each other. I gotta tell you, the Gotei may be a funny bunch, and downright scary if you stop and think about it, but they're a good lot overall who turned a kid who could have been a real scamp into a responsible adult, and I gotta thank them for that much."

"Indeed," she nodded, noticing a pudgy man with a jolly grin on his face making his way over to them.

"Ryunousuke!" the newcomer greeted.

"Ichirou!" the merchant greeted back, just as eagerly.

"And who might this be?" Ichirou turned his smile on Makoto.

"This here's a newcomer to these parts. Seems she might have shinigami potential so I was telling her about the Gotei," Ryunousuke explained. To Makoto he said, "Ichirou's an old friend, and the owner of this establishment."

"It's a pleasure, maam," Ichirou said, holding out his hand.

"Likewise," she returned, taking it as they bowed politely to each other. It was the last thing she remembered as the world around her suddenly flashed white, and sent her spiraling into the longest and most horrific vision she'd ever experienced in all her long years.

_***Flash***_

_A lone figure standing just at the edge of a forest, gazing at the run-down housing at the bottom of the hill for a moment before staggering towards it... _

_***Flash***_

_The figure had reached the buildings, and the meager light showed it was merely a small girl, looking very alone and desperate... _

_***Flash***_

_The girl was making her way through the streets; scrounging what little food she could and constantly avoiding everyone, even the other children who tried to befriend her..._

_***Flash***_

_The girl was now looking up at the night sky, terrified at the sight of the nearly full moon... _

_***Flash***_

_She was huddled in a basement now, her leg badly broken. She tries to get up but the leg just won't hold her. She's crying and afraid..._

_***Flash***_

_The door opens and Ichirou the barman comes down the stairs into the cellar. He sees the girl and tries to comfort her, but she frantically waves at him to go away. Moonlight suddenly shines through the tiny cellar window, and the little girl's eyes flare an unholy black. Her body twists and writhes as her limbs reform themselves. Fur sprouts all over her body as her face elongates and fangs snap at Ichirou's hand while he stands frozen in fear... _

_***Flash***_

_The doors to the cellar burst open as Ichirou scrambles up the stairs and into the bar, a large, fully transformed wolf snarling at his heels. He tries to throw furniture in its path but large paws bat the obstacles out of the way like they were annoying bugs. In a last effort, Ichirou dives behind the bar and grabs for a knife, but as he turns his attacker is on him before he can raise the blade in his defense. The last thing he sees is a maw of razor sharp teeth descending down on him... _

_***Flash***_

_Shinigami are gathered in the bar, some trying to keep inquisitors away as others examine the blood-spattered room. Ichirou's body is lying torn to literal pieces, and a sheet is being laid over him. A shinigami with a red ponytail and black tribal tattoos seems to be ordering two other shinigami to check the basement... _

***Flash***

_The same tattooed shinigami is standing next to a cart in front of a different building, watching a body wrapped in a bloody sheet being loaded. He turns to see a black-haired shinigami, wearing a scarf and strange hairpiece, approaching. He bows and they seem to strike up a conversation..._

_***Flash* **_

_The shinigami with the scarf is standing on the bank of a stream. The same wolf leaps from the water and he turns to slash at it with his sword, only for the beast to slam into him before he can get the blade between them. The wolf grabs his arm in its jaws and spins, whirling him around as he cries out in pain. He switches his sword to his left hand and stabs it into the wolf's neck, making it let go and run off. He falls to his knees at the edge of the water, holding his arm and staring at the wound in horror as the red-haired shinigami runs towards him..._

_***Flash*** _

_The moon is full, and a white wolf stands howling beneath it atop a modern apartment building. On top of its head is a large, black, diamond-shaped patch of fur, and a tattered white scarf hangs limply around its neck..._

_***Flash***_

Makoto came back to herself with a terrified gasp. Realizing she was still bent over and holding someone's hand in a death-grip, she slowly raised her head to see the frightened face of Ichirou staring back at her for a moment before he jerked his hand out of her hold and backed away warily.

"Ryunousuke… what the _hell_ is wrong with her?" he demanded, voice wavering nervously.

As Makoto gazed around the bar, she suddenly noticed how quiet the formerly boisterous establishment had become, and that every single person there was staring at her with expressions of abject fear and morbid curiosity. The heat began to rise in her face as it became painfully clear just how noticeable her psychic episode had been.

"I don't know!" Ryunousuke was shouting back, "Maybe she's got some kinda problem. Have someone call a healer!"

All at once the icy feeling of being petrified beyond movement faded, and her hand darted out, catching Ichirou's again and dragging his arm closer as she desperately tried for the first time in years to make enough sense of a vision to turn it into a warning. Except this time, the stakes somehow seemed far higher than they'd been back when she'd told Isshin about his son's death god destiny.

"You have to stay out of the basement," she said earnestly. "There's a creature down there, a werewolf! You have to stay away or it's going to kill you!"

Suddenly all movement in the bar froze as if someone had hit the pause button on a TV. The color drained from the barman's face, and Ryunousuke's mouth set itself in a grim line as he gripped her arm and pulled her away from his friend, shaking her as he demanded, "What do you mean, werewolf?"

"I _saw_ it!" Makoto cried, trying to twist away from Ryunousuke. "A little girl in your basement! When you tried to go near her Ichirou, she transformed and killed you! There was a red-haired shinigami with tattoos investigating your bar, and he was talking to another shinigami wearing a scarf and a weird hair ornament. The shinigami with the scarf was bitten, and I saw a second wolf wearing his scarf howling beneath the full moon!"

Ichirou began sputtering in alarm, but his friend was nowhere near as easily flustered.

"How _dare_ you!" Ryunousuke hissed. "The shinigami are just as devoted to slaying werewolves as they are hollows, and they would _never_ suffer one to stand among their ranks. I'll have you know that Captain Kuchiki is regarded as one of the best captains of the Gotei, and he is most definitely _not_ one of the Cursed!"

"I'm just telling you what I _saw_," the woman cried, fear gripping her as he towered over her menacingly. "I don't even know who this Captain Kuchiki is!"

Whatever Ryunousuke might have said, a voice coming from the doorway neatly cut him off just as he seemed about to launch into a full-fledged tirade.

"Oi! What's going on here?"

Makoto was both relieved and shocked to see the very red-haired shinigami from her vision striding towards them.

"She's making unlawful accusations against your taichou, Abarai Fukutaichou," Ryunousuke growled, jerking her arm pointedly.

The newcomer, Abarai, narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the sight of her wincing from the rough treatment. "Why don't you stop bruising her up, and let me ask the questions," the coolness of his voice suggested it was anything but a request.

Ryunousuke grumbled and shoved her arm away from him in a decidedly ungentlemanly gesture.

"Now then, madam, mind telling me what these accusations are that you've supposedly been making?" he asked Makoto in a gentler tone.

She wasted no time in repeating her warning. "I _saw_ a little girl in the basement of this building turn into a werewolf and kill Ichirou," she pointed at the barman. "Then I _saw_ you and another shinigami wearing a scarf talking, and that other shinigami was bitten by the same wolf. Then I saw a wolf wearing an identical scarf howling on top of a building like those I remember from the Living World."

For a brief moment his kind tone when speaking to her had given her hope he might believe her, but the stern, somewhat incensed look in Abarai's eyes told her she might have just put her foot in it worse than she could have imagined.

"Madam, I've never seen you around here before," Abarai began.

"She was just konsoed here, sir," Ryunousuke supplied. Abarai silenced him with a meaningful _look_.

"So I'm going to give you a piece of advice," he continued. "_Don__'__t_, no matter what you _see_," he emphasized the word just as she had. "_Don__'__t_ go running up to just anyone you please claiming to see werewolf attacks. And _don__'__t_, under _any _circumstances, claim to see Squad captains or members of the noble clans suffering from such afflictions. It's bad for you, and it's bad for everyone around you, understand?"

"No, I don't!" she cried, still terrified that what she'd _seen_ could possibly come to pass. "Don't you get it? I'm trying to help you save a life before it's taken! At least go check the basement, please!"

Abarai sighed, and regarded her for a moment as he thought it over. Around them patrons were muttering worriedly, and Makoto caught whispers that it was a trap being laid to get a Vice Captain killed, and that she might really be an agent of someone called 'Aizen'.

Makoto hadn't the faintest idea who that could be, and so she kept her gaze firmly on the red-head standing before her, desperately willing him to believe her.

"All right," he said at last. "I'll go down and take a look. But," he pointed a finger right at her face. "You are going to go with me, and if I find that this is all some kind of prank, you're going to find yourself in a world of trouble, you hear?"

Makoto swallowed nervously and nodded. The idea of being trapped in a small space with a real, bona fide monster made her blood run cold, and yet she felt she could at least trust that she'd be safe with the fierce warrior by her side for protection.

"We'll go with you," a low, serious voice said.

Makoto turned to see two more shinigami, one a blonde and the other dark haired with a scar over one eye and a strange blue stripe and the number 69 tattooed beneath the other, both striding across the room.

"It's not a good idea to go into a suspected werewolf hideout without backup, and someone should at least keep an eye on _her_," the dark haired shinigami continued, nodding his head towards the medium. Abarai nodded.

"Alright then. Shuuhei, you should stay back with the girl, so you have more room to launch Kazeshini if we get attacked. Wabisuke's no good if Izuru's too far away to get a shot in," Abarai suggested.

The other two nodded and the four marched their way to the cellar door, Abarai in the lead. A motion from the fukutaichou's hand had the barkeep frantically fussing with his keys to get the door unlocked, and he and Ryunousuke were asked to stand guard and keep the patrons away while the cellar was investigated, or face arrest.

Cautiously, Abarai crept down the stairs first, a strange ball of light appearing in his hand as he crouched on the stairs and used it to illuminate the alcove beneath them, so no creature could reach through the steps and trip him. Once he was certain it was safe enough, he motioned to the blonde—Izuru, he'd called him—to follow, while the other—Shuuhei?—stayed with her at the top of the stairs, his physical presence alone a warning not to try to run.

Slowly and methodically the two shinigami searched the cellar, swords drawn and bodies tensed and ready to spring. Makoto's bodyguard likewise had his weapon loosened in its sheath, ready to draw at any moment.

"Where did you see this girl?" Abarai asked. Makoto pointed to the far corner, beneath the same small window she'd seen in her vision.

He sighed, and put his sword away. The blonde followed suit and they both came back up the stairs.

"Well, I don't know what you're up to, but there's nothing but bar supplies down there," Abarai said. Makoto was about to rebuke him for dismissing her when a murmur went up through the gathered patrons, and several masked shinigami stepped into the already crowded room. With them was a small woman with fierce eyes and short hair, wearing a yellow sash.

"Alright, what seems to be the trouble here?" she demanded.

Abarai, Izuru and Shuuhei all straightened a bit.

"Soi Fon Taichou, forgive my curiosity but what are you doing here?" Abarai asked.

The woman gave him a disdainful look. "We received reports that there's a woman causing disturbances by claiming she saw a werewolf attack. Even more serious is that those reports state she's accused your captain of being one of the Cursed."

Abarai nodded. "From what I gather she had some sort of premonition, and just to be sure we searched the premises. We didn't find anything."

Soi Fon looked at Makoto. "Is this her?"

"Yes."

The woman snapped her fingers, and two of the masked shinigami took hold of Makoto and bound her arms. "Hey! Wait!"

"Stop struggling!" Soi Fon snapped. "You're under arrest for causing an unlawful disturbance, falsely accusing a noble of a capital offense, and conspiracy to incite panic."

"Is that really necessary?" Abarai asked. "Whatever this woman saw, she's newly konsoed and obviously frightened. Wouldn't it be more appropriate to take her to the Academy or the Fourth Division where someone can calm her down and evaluate her?"

Soi Fon shook her head. "She's got to answer for the public disturbance at least. We'll let her cool her heels in a cell overnight, and then figure out what to do with her from there."

"Wait, no!"

Makoto's pleas fell on deaf ears, as she was dragged outside. A dark hood was placed over her head, cutting off all light and sound. The last thing she knew was the sensation of being lifted, before the oppressive fabric and her own panicked breathing caused her to black out.

Back in the bar, the patrons had begun to return to their seats, and Ichirou was getting swamped with orders to replace cold food. Amidst the agitated chatter, Renji plopped himself onto a bench, sighing unhappily and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Something bothering you?" Izuru asked, sitting next to him.

"Other than the fact that this wasn't what I had in mind when I said we should hang out?" Renji joked. Then he sighed again. "Nah, I just feel sorry for that woman. I don't like seeing people like that imprisoned when what they'd probably be better helped just sitting in a quiet room with someone to talk them down."

"I understand," the blonde nodded. "But since it's out of our hands we'll just have to hope Squad Two turns her over to the Fourth once she calms down."

"Not like we can ask Soi Fon Taichou to give her back anyway," Shuuhei remarked wryly. His friends chuckled.

"Very true," Renji agreed.

"Although," Shuuhei continued, mischievous glint in his eye. "If you ever visit the Living World and happen to see your captain howling at the moon, at least you'll have been forewarned."

Renji laughed outright. "Don't joke about things like that! You'll get us in trouble!"

A waitress finally came over to take their order, and the conversation turned to other things. The strange woman and her frightening claims were all but forgotten.

Unbeknownst to the three fukutaichou, all the way out at the edge of town, a young girl stood amongst the trees on top of a hill and stared longingly at the ramshackle housing below. People frightened her, and she knew she shouldn't go near them, but she was so tired of being alone. The forest terrified her, and she couldn't bear to stay there a moment longer. Not since that incident a few days earlier, when that horrible hollow had tried to eat her and she'd blacked out only to wake up later and find that the creature had been torn to bloody shreds.

No, the forest wasn't safe at all, so the only thing left to do was face her fears and try to find a place for herself among people.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and began making her way down the hill.

**~*~ TBC…~*~**

**A/N: Whew that's a long first chapter, but I didn't want to give you all just a token OC and no Rokubantai hotness, lol. Next time- the death tally begins, and Squad Six is assigned the gruesome case. Hope to see you there!**

**Oh, and as always, please be kind and drop a review to let me and TDM (the muse) know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**~*~The Call of the Moon~*~**

**By: WhipOfLightHeartOfSword**

**Rated: Strong R**

**World: Semi-AU, during the Winter War. We're just going to pretend this is like the movies - we know it takes place sometime before Ichigo loses his powers, we just don't know _when_ exactly, lol. **

**Pairings: Renji/Byakuya (main)**

**Feedback: Yes please, but no flames.**

**Warnings: Yaoi- don't like don't read. Also gore, it _is_ a werewolf fic after all. *grin***

**Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo, Shonen Jump, etc., not me. This is a not-for-profit fanwork. **

**Summary: See Chapter 1. **

**Author's Note: Yay! Two chapters finished in a week! Originally I really hoped that I would be able to have this much further along by Halloween, but since RL hasn't been so kind as to let up, I'm simply going to try and get another chapter in by tomorrow if I can. Since the story is supposed to occur in late fall as opposed to being specifically on Halloween itself, I'm hoping people will still be in the monster story mood for a while and keep joining us. Speaking of monster fics- the Vampire!Bya bunny 'Blood Moon' was a very close runner up in my last story poll, and I'm still getting some juicy ideas for it. But if people are getting out of the creature-fic mood, then I'd rather just take notes and shelve the bunny for next year. So, I've made one more poll and I'm going to leave it up to the readers— check out the bunny on my profile if you haven't seen it, and either vote or let me know somehow (PM, review, etc.) if you're still in the mood for some vampire fun no matter if it's still Halloween or not. By the end of the week I'll let you know if I'm planning to work on it or save it for next year. **

**(Edited 11/3/11 to fix formatting errors with italicized words)  
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**~*~Chapter 2~*~**

Laughter drifted through the air as the last drunken patrons staggered out of the bar and into the street. Ichirou followed closely behind them like a sheepdog seeing the last of its flock safely through the pasture gates, bowing politely and giving a cordial response to their slurred words of departure before sliding the doors of his bar closed and pushing the locking bar into place.

It was very late, but the barman's work was far from over, as he and the wait staff spent somewhere around an hour and a half wiping down tables, washing the floor, and putting leftovers into containers for the staff to bring home to their families or to be distributed to the local children. Ichirou refused to serve day-old leftovers in his establishment, but the thought of allowing perfectly good food go to waste when it could be put to use feeding someone was just as distasteful to him.

When he and two of his staff picked up the containers and brought them out to the back, the usual bunch of street urchins were already lined up and eager to receive their share. It pained the kindly man that for some of them it would be their only meal of the day, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he had found a solution to their respective situations that would allow them a cordial, symbiotic relationship. The children would be guaranteed at least one meal a day without having to steal or dumpster-dive for it, and he could help them without his business losing profits. He had also struck up an agreement with some of the older kids that in return for the guarantee of free food, they would refrain from breaking into and stealing from his stores and also discourage newcomers and younger children from doing the same. For the sixty years he'd been in business, the arrangement had worked out just fine, and where some local businessmen had a terrible time securing their wares, Ichirou was one of the few that was able to go to sleep at night with reasonable expectations that he'd wake up to find his bar still intact.

One by one the food containers were distributed, the tiny, strained faces smiling with gratitude when it was their turn at the front of the line. But even though his actions allowed some to avoid starvation, the barman couldn't help but notice the faces that didn't show up. It was a terrible, heartbreaking fact that even with his humanitarian efforts many of the youngsters still wouldn't survive long enough to gain entry into the Shinigami Academy. But those few that did bolstered him enough to keep going, and every time one of them vanished only to show up again months or years later wearing that iconic shihakushou, Ichirou would invite them into the bar for a drink on the house, not only to toast their success, but in some small part his own as well.

As the last child vanished into the night with their dinner, and the wait staff said their farewells, Ichirou returned to the interior of the bar to do his final inspection before he retired to his rooms for the night.

As he made his way around, he noticed that one of the bar backs had forgotten to restock the shelves with the new bottles of plum wine he had just imported from the Kuchiki vineyards. It was a well-known fact that plum blossoms held a special place in the clan leader's heart for some reason or another—something to do with his late wife, if rumors were true—and the clan had made the decision a few decades back to capitalize on the vast number of plum trees growing on the Kuchiki Manor grounds and start their own vineyard. Whatever the real story behind this newer enterprise of the already filthy rich family, Ichirou couldn't argue that they produced some of the best plum wine he'd ever tasted; something his customers wholeheartedly agreed on as he routinely had to restock it throughout the day, and had made a small killing off of since he'd made the decision to start selling it by the bottle.

Preferring not to wait until morning and possibly forget to remind the bar back before the lunch rush, Ichirou decided to go down to the cellar and retrieve a few bottles to tide them through the first wave of customers until the bar back—a man far bigger and stronger than Ichirou himself—could retrieve the entire crate and move it up to the storeroom on the main floor.

As he opened the door, Ichirou paused as a faint sound similar to a child's sob reached his ears. Straining, he couldn't pick up any additional sounds, so he shrugged his shoulders and dismissed it as exhaustion. Choosing to light a lantern rather than go through the trouble of going around the entire room and lighting the sconces, he made his way down the stairs. About halfway down he heard the same sound again, this time louder and much more distinct.

Swinging the lantern around, his eyes widened as the beam illuminated a small girl, about seven years old by appearance, huddled in the far corner. The small window above her head was broken, as if she'd been leaning on it and fallen through. Shards of glass lay scattered around her, and she was covered in cuts of various sizes. Upon seeing him, she gasped in fear and tried to struggle to her feet, but her shin was twisted in a sickening, unnatural way. Obviously it had been broken when she fell.

Ichirou heard himself gasp as he darted down the stairs to help her. As he approached, she once again tried to put more distance between them, shaking her head vigorously and looking terrified.

"It's all right, my dear," the barman said in as soothing a voice as he could manage. "I'm not angry with you. Please, let me get you away from that glass so it doesn't keep cutting you and we'll find someone who can set your leg right."

The child's eyes became impossibly huge the closer he got, and she began sweeping her arm in front of her in an unmistakable gesture to stay back.

"N—no! Go…a…away!"

Her voice was hoarse with disuse, but Ichirou's greater concern was her fear of him, and her strange insistence that he not help her.

"But child, look at you! You can't stay there, and that leg'll only cripple you if it doesn't get proper care."

"No! You—you'll get hurt!"

Ichirou gave the girl a soft smile and held his hand out to her. "I promise I'll mind the glass. That's really kind of you to worry, Little Miss."

The youth gave a cry of frustration. "That's n—not w—what I mean! _I__'__ll_ hurt you! Like all the others!"

"What do you mean?" Ichirou hesitated. Something had begun to niggle at the back of his mind, and he suddenly had the sickening feeling that there was something familiar about the situation, even though he couldn't for the life of him remember _what._

The girl opened her mouth as if to answer, but the sudden appearance of light spilling through the broken window into the cellar had her jerking her eyes up, staring with horror at the full moon that had just moved out from behind the clouds. Ichirou followed her gaze upwards, the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach getting worse.

His eyes were drawn back to the child, as her head snapped back down to face him, eyes bleeding from warm brown to inky, poisonous black. She screamed, "Run now!"

Ichirou's heart dropped down into his stomach in an icy ball. Memories of a hysterical, newly konsoed woman urging him to stay out of the cellar or be attacked by a werewolf came rushing back, while the little girl's face and limbs began to twist and grow. Teeth elongated into fangs, fur sprouted on every visible patch of skin, and joints crackled as bones broke apart and reformed into a distinctly canine shape. The sound of ripping fabric was almost drowned out by her cries of pain and distress as her body began to increase in size.

The human cries devolved into dog-like yelps and whines. Her tailbone lengthened and peeked out from beneath her yukata, lashing back and forth agitatedly as it became covered with longer, bushier fur. Her ears became triangular and migrated to the top of her skull as it flattened and broadened on top and her face narrowed and lengthened into a snout. Finally, the creature crouched before him, a quivering brown mass of fur three times the size the girl had been, the remnants of her torn yukata draped around her feet.

Horrified, the barman began to slowly back away, hardly daring to breathe as he tried to be as silent as possible.

It was to no avail.

The werewolf's head suddenly snapped up and evil black eyes with dead white pupils and mud-brown irises fixated on him. An unholy snarl erupted as her lips curled back to reveal wicked fangs far longer and more knife-like than any normal wolf. Ichirou wasted no time in dropping the lantern and making a mad dash for the stairs.

Behind him the werewolf made a blood-curdling sound that was a mix of a howl and a scream as she leapt for him. He ducked and felt her front claws graze his back as she slammed snout-first into the wall where his head had just been. He managed to get out from under her before her full weight could come down on top of him, and scrambled up the staircase on all fours while the wolf shook her head and regained her bearings.

Ichirou reached the top and slammed the door shut just as the werewolf set her sights back on him and gathered herself for a single leap that carried her all the way to the top of the staircase. He screamed in panic as the wood broke apart like kindling beneath the force of her body's impact against it, and the creature darted into the bar after him, that horrific cry echoing through the darkened room as she pursued him…

**~*~The following day…~*~**

Renji yawned as he trudged through the gates of the Squad Six compound, cursing Matsumoto and Ikkaku to hell and back; Matsumoto for inviting the gang out drinking, and Ikkaku for goading him into that stupid Living World drinking game. What was it called again? Beer pong, or something?

At any rate, he was quite certain by virtue of its name (if not the evil glint in Ikkaku's eyes) that it was not a game meant to be played using large glasses of sake.

He would have dearly loved to call in sick and just spent the day alternating between sleep and worshiping the porcelain god, but Byakuya had made it very clear that any attempts to call in would be responded to with a visit from the taichou himself, and that if it was anything other than a genuine illness Renji would find himself with a wagonload more work than usual and no overtime pay as punishment for being irresponsible enough to overdrink when he was scheduled for work the following morning.

"Ohayou gozaimasu, Taichou" he mumbled, shuffling over to his desk and plopping down in his chair.

Byakuya looked up from the document he was reading and frowned, eyes narrowing with distaste.

"At least you managed to only be five minutes late."

Renji glared balefully right back at him. "Hey, I could have called in just to make you walk in on me heaving my guts out," he snapped irritably.

Byakuya sniffed haughtily. "I wouldn't recommend it. A year from now you would still be regretting the consequences."

He rose from his chair and lifted the huge stack of papers from the table which held the overflow of incoming paperwork, carrying it over to where Renji had put his head down miserably on his crossed arms. Mercilessly the noble dropped it in front of him, the sound causing the fukutaichou to start and sit up.

"That was mean, Taichou," he groaned.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so mean if you didn't make it a habit to constantly report in hung over," Byakuya retorted mildly as he returned to his own desk.

Renji groaned and rested his throbbing head back on his forearms.

"_Today_, Abarai," Byakuya intoned warningly.

The fukutaichou gave a long-suffering sigh and sat up, crabbily snatching the topmost form from the stack and slapping it down onto his desk. Byakuya pointedly ignored his subordinate in favor of signing his name on his own form with a flourish. He then looked up and caught Renji's eyes as he lifted the form and set it on the sizeable stack of completed work that was ready to be moved to his outbox, patting it meaningfully before he reached for the next form.

Renji grumbled as he looked down and tried to make sense of the words glaring painfully at him from the stark white of the paper. Grimacing, he gave up and simply signed it, then reached for the next one.

"I certainly hope you know what it is you're putting your signature on," Byakuya droned, not bothering to look up from his work.

Renji growled. "Well, which are you more interested in? Me getting this stuff approved and sent off, or staring at it all day and holding the courier monkeys up?"

Byakuya glanced at him and once again rose from his desk and crossed the room. Renji barely bit back a groan as the noble plucked the newly signed paper from his desk. One slim, dark brow rose incredulously as he glanced at the hung-over red head from the corner of his eye.

"You've just approved the unseated officers two weeks paid vacation to Aruba, in the Living World."

Renji shrugged. "We're at war. No sense in working everyone to the bone until they collapse or mutiny."

Byakuya glared at him. "Nor can we spare ninety percent of the Squad for so long when they could be needed at a moment's notice!"

He turned gracefully on the ball of his foot, and marched back to his own desk, causing his subordinate to close his eyes and breathe deeply as the sight of the swirling scarf and haori set off his nausea again. The form with Renji's signature was torn in half and dropped into the trashcan.

"I expect you to actually _read_ whatever is put in front of you, Abarai, or you will find yourself on a week's worth of punishment detail regardless of the fact you bothered to show your face this morning."

It was so tempting for Renji to stick his tongue out as the noble settled down to work again, but as he actually wanted to leave on time and curl up in his bed to sleep off his misery, he refrained. Trying to read with a hangover was far less torturous than some of the ingenious punishments his taichou was capable of dishing out when pushed too far.

An hour ticked slowly by. Renji was in the process of rubbing his eyes and trying to convince himself that the pounding in his head wasn't going to actually cause his skull to split open when the door burst open and a panicked shinigami dashed in.

"Shitsureshimasu, Kuchiki Taichou, but I have an urgent message from two of our men on patrol in the Rukon!"

Byakuya held out his hand expectantly and the courier gave the note to him. Normally when reading a message, the noble never showed any sign as to what its contents might be, no matter what kind of news it was. This time however, Renji could feel a cold lump of dread building in his gut as the aristocratic brows furrowed and the perpetually pouty lips pursed into a deeper frown.

"Renji, I need you to get down to the Rukon. _Now_."

The fukutaichou blinked. "Me? But what's going on?"

Byakuya's eyes snapped over to him, and both hangover and paperwork were suddenly forgotten at the sight of the unsettled look in the stormy eyes.

"There was a murder last night in the South Rukon, District 45. The owner of the _'__Dancing __Carp__'_ was just found mauled to death."

Renji felt the blood drain from his face. "Mauled? Ichirou?" he whispered faintly. Byakuya nodded, and handed the missive to him.

"_Victim__ was__ found__ disemboweled__ and__ partially__ dismembered.__ Extensive__ bite __and__ claw__ wounds__ and__ missing__ portions __of __the __body __indicate __the __attacker __may __have __ingested __part __of __the __remains__…_ Fuck!" The fukutaichou shot to his feet, sliding Zabimaru into his obi. "I'm on my way."

"Take a contingent with you," Byakuya instructed. "Whatever killed him was big, and apparently had a taste for human souls."

Renji paused and gave the taichou a solemn look. "You think it was something other than a hollow?"

"I think that if it was a hollow there wouldn't be even a partially devoured body left behind," the noble answered gravely. "And even if there were, don't you find it strange he hasn't resurrected as a hollow himself by now?"

Renji took a deep breath and shook his head. "Damn. I'll be sure to have a reiatsu analysis sent to Squad Twelve as soon as possible."

"Don't bother, I'm requesting an analyst to be sent to look over whatever you find on site. We need answers sooner than we're likely to get them if we try to send evidence through their labs," Byakuya said as he reseated himself and summoned two hell butterflies. "In the meantime, I am going to ask for the archives to send a list of other creatures that could potentially have done this. Hollow or not, we'll still need to formulate a plan to find and destroy it, and take measures to see it claims as few additional victims as possible, if it is inclined to attack repeatedly."

"Sure thing, Taichou. I'll let you know as soon as we find anything," Renji said as he left the office. Once outside he rattled off a list of names to a passing unseated shinigami, along with the order that those people were to meet him at the front gate as soon as they could grab their zanpakutou.

He then went to the mission supply room and signed out eleven crime scene analysis kits, and with the help of two of the personnel working equipment duty moved them all out to the designated spot where his team was beginning to assemble. He was handing out the last of them when a familiar dark-haired shape came running up.

"Abarai Fukutaichou, is it true we're being assigned a murder investigation?"

Renji couldn't help the wry grin as Rikichi slid to a stop and stood panting slightly, looking for all the world like an eager puppy raring to please its master.

"Sorry to say we are, kiddo. Hope you're not squeamish," he said as he tossed one of the two packs left in his hands to the youth.

"No sir! At least, I don't think I am, sir," Rikichi alternated between shaking his head and tilting it thoughtfully as he tried to answer accurately.

Renji resisted the urge to cast his eyes skyward. "Well, no time like the present to find out."

He turned and addressed the assembled group. "Alright you lot, listen up! We've been informed of a murder in South Rukon District 45. The owner of a bar was allegedly mauled to death by some kind of creature during the night. The initial description of the crime scene does not point towards a hollow as being the culprit. As that area of the Rukon is in our jurisdiction, Squad Six is being asked to investigate. We will be joined by a member of Squad Twelve who will analyze our findings on site, and once we have determined the nature of our suspect it will be our task to secure the area and ensure they claim no further victims, and of course to track them down and either destroy them or bring them to justice. Any questions?"

Ten heads shook 'no'.

"Alright then, let's move out."

Renji launched forwards into shunpo, remembering to tone his speed down a tad so he wouldn't out-distance his subordinates. As he ran he couldn't dismiss the sorrow that he was on his way to investigate the murder of a very kindly man who was one of the last people Renji could think of that deserved such a sad fate. Ichirou's bar was one of his favorite places to spend time outside of work, especially when his friends were free to come hang out with him. And as a former street rat himself, the fukutaichou appreciated the man's efforts to help the local kids rather than simply view them as unwanted pests.

The streets of the Rukon passed by in a blur, and all too soon the _'__Dancing__ Carp__'_ came into view. The doors were warded against intruders, and the shinigami standing guard outside looked decidedly haunted and nauseous.

As he slid to a stop, Renji couldn't help but regret the decision to use shunpo, as his hangover suddenly reminded him that such rapid acceleration and deceleration wasn't fun to experience when one was already suffering from nausea. Doggedly he swallowed hard and reined his unhappy stomach back in, refusing to disgrace himself by losing his breakfast before he'd even seen the corpse. Which, looking at the shinigami waiting for him, was not all that unlikely a prospect.

The two first responders looked like they were barely holding it together. Renji felt his heart sink. Both were veteran Squad Six fighters who had seen more than their share of carnage over the years. For them to be so visibly shaken up meant that whatever he was about to walk in on when he entered the bar was bad. Really bad.

"Is the place secured?" he asked.

"Yes, Abarai Fukutaichou. We've sealed it off, but it… we couldn't stay in there for very long. If there was anyone still in the premises when we sealed it, they're trapped in there with the body."

Renji nodded gravely. The poor men looked as though they were about to collapse into a quivering mess. He decided to take pity on them, having brought more than enough people with him to search the place and take care of whatever was to be found inside. "I want the two of you to take the rest of the day off. Spend it with a buddy, your love interest, at the brothel, I don't particularly care. Just do what you have to do to shake it off and report for work tomorrow. If you have trouble sleeping tonight, don't hesitate to see Squad Four about sleeping aids. Last thing I want to hear is that you can't do your job because you're too sleep deprived. Understood?"

"Yes, Abarai Fukutaichou," both nodded.

"Good. Dismissed," Renji couldn't help but notice how eagerly both shinigami beat it back towards the Seiretei. Turning to look at the doors, he noticed some incriminating red liquid trailing down the inside of the glass. Dread filled him as once again the knowledge struck home that he was about to walk in on the murder scene of a person whom he'd known personally and highly respected.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and deactivated the seal the patrolmen had placed on the building to keep anyone from going in and out. Slowly he brought his hand up and reached out to open the front doors of the bar.

Initially he was met with resistance, as the doors refused to budge. Renji frowned, knowing they couldn't be locked as the patrolmen had reported breaking into the main entrance when the wait staff of the _'__Dancing __Carp__' _had reported the bar was inexplicably closed and there was no sign of Ichirou to be found anywhere.

Upon closer inspection, Renji observed that the doors seemed to be bent outwards, as if some great force had slammed into them from the interior of the bar, thus damaging them and making it impossible for them to slide properly along their tracks.

He motioned for a few of the men with him to help him work the door the rest of the way off the track, and then lay it aside rather than try and get it to function again. As soon as he beheld the sight within, he dearly wished he was back in the office doing paperwork with an unrelenting taichou, rather than seeing the once cheerful interior of the _Carp_ reduced to gloomy, blood-spattered shambles.

With a heavy heart Renji forced himself to step into the main room, senses on high alert in case the perpetrator was still hiding somewhere inside. His subordinates followed, dismayed intakes of breath revealing that they were just as disturbed by the scene as he was.

"Anyone starts to feel queasy, I want you to hightail it back outside," he ordered, pitching his voice so it was just loud enough to carry to the entire group. "Don't anyone dare throw up in here. If I don't have your hide for risking loss of evidence, you can bet the Captain will."

He could hear the sounds of at least three pairs of feet halt and back away towards the door. Those three he decided he'd stick on interview detail and assign them the task of walking around and talking to the locals to see if they could turn up any eyewitnesses or additional clues that might point towards the killer.

As it was, he almost put himself at risk of rousing Byakuya's ire, as he zeroed in on the greatest concentration of blood and cautiously approached the bar area itself. The shelves were mostly empty as the majority of the liquor had apparently been knocked to the ground, perhaps by Ichirou or his assailant. Leaning over the counter, Renji caught a glimpse of a bloodied arm nestled up against the bottom of a box of sake containers. Hoping up to get a bird's eye view from the counter, he instantly regretted it as the sight brought him dangerously close to loosing the contents of his own stomach onto the floor.

Ichirou—or what was left of him—lay behind the bar, in torn pieces just like the report had said. Somehow, knowing in advance what he was going to see didn't prepare Renji in the slightest for the reality of the ill fate that had befallen the poor barkeep.

Ichirou's left arm had been torn out at the shoulder, the forearm and bicep of which had been obviously gnawed on. The left side of his face was a mess of torn flesh, as whatever had attacked him had obviously chewed on that for a while too, and his left eye was grotesquely punctured and lay torn against the pulverized flesh of his jaw. His throat was nothing but a gaping cavity.

His stomach and chest were torn open, as if someone had dug their claws in and ripped the body apart with their hands alone. What was left of the organs were strewn next to the body, and some of them—like the heart and liver—were missing. The rest were torn and in some places seemed to be missing pieces.

The legs were the least damaged, except for a nasty bite wound on the right ankle, which appeared to also be broken and the right hip severely dislocated.

Renji barely managed to shake off his horror and chase two more of his men back out the door, as the sound of retching alerted him that they were about to get themselves into trouble for contaminating the crime scene.

Shaking his head, he left them in the care of the three that had opted to stay outside in the first place, and summoned a couple hell butterflies. The first he sent back to the Sixth Division barracks requesting for a few more seasoned veterans to help with the investigation, and the second he sent to Squad Four, requesting an experienced medical examiner to come and give their analysis of the crime scene before the body was removed. Returning to the bar, he gave the body one last sad look before he removed a sheet from the kit on his back and spread it over the remains of his friend.

"Start canvassing the building," he ordered to two of the five left with him. "I want to know if the killer's still in here or not."

"You, I want to begin processing the scene. I want the works—finger prints, odd blood smears, reiatsu samples, you name it! Start in here and work your way out to the other rooms, and the cellar," he said to Rikichi and the last two unseated officers. "Have as much of it ready to go when the Squad Twelve analyst gets here as you can, but don't rush it! Anything the analyst asks you for, don't give them a hard time."

They nodded and disbursed. Renji himself let his gaze trail around the dining area, trying to get a feel for how the terrible crime had unfolded. It wasn't easy with the place in such shambles. Tables and benches had been knocked everywhere, not appearing to be in any particular pattern that he could follow backwards.

Suddenly his gaze fell on the far side of the room, where the door to the cellar hung splintered and torn partially off its hinges. Making his way around the debris of the furniture, Renji noticed once he got closer that there were deep claw marks on the inside of the door, and that it was shattered outwards, as if something inside the cellar had rammed it open.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, he peered down and noticed damage to the wall near the bottom of the staircase, where the plaster was scuffed up and broken. More claw-like gouges graced the planks of the stairs themselves. He walked down a few steps and saw the broken window, and the burned out lantern laying near a patch of dirt that was churned up and disturbed.

"Abarai Fukutaichou?"

He turned to see Rikichi standing behind him.

"Akon from the Twelfth Division's here. So's Isane Fukutaichou, to look at the body," the boy reported. "We can't find any trace of the killer still being inside the building."

"Thanks, Rikichi," Renji answered. Returning to the main floor he noticed that the requested backup from the Sixth had also arrived. He stopped to give two of them orders to process evidence in the basement before heading over to the bar where Akon was setting up his equipment. Kotetsu Fukutaichou was already kneeling behind the bar, carefully lifting away the sheet to reveal the ravaged body beneath.

Akon gave a whistle when he saw it. "Poor bastard really had some bad karma hidden away somewhere, to have gotten a fate like this."

Renji glowered at him. "Could you at least _pretend_ to be respectful? The guy used to be a humanitarian in these parts."

Akon shrugged. "Sure, but it doesn't change anything." With that he turned on the apparatus he'd brought with him and began going through the box of evidence the Squad Six members had already collected.

Renji turned away from him in disgust and focused on Isane instead. "What can you tell me?"

She looked up at him with disturbed eyes.

"The assessment he was mauled is irrefutable, but I can say from looking at the wounds that only the devouring of the organs was post mortem. It looks like the arm might have been grabbed and torn off first. Your subordinates found a knife that suggests he tried to defend himself. There's a blood smear on the floor that indicates he tried to run after he lost his arm, but that his attacker _bit_ his ankle and dragged him back here. His chest and abdomen were ripped open pre-mortem, but it was the throat trauma that finally finished him."

Renji felt an icy shudder go up his spine. "And the fact that his head looks like a dog's chew toy?"

"Also inflicted sometime pre-mortem," Isane confirmed.

The fukutaichou felt anger and nausea bubbling up for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Akon was right—this poor bastard. Hey speaking of, have you found anything yet?" Renji looked up at where the scientist in question sat perched on a bar stool.

Akon glanced away from the screen in front of him with disdainfully raised eyebrows. "If you'll wait a moment, I'm about to get the first results back."

Renji bit his tongue and refrained from making a comment about Squad Twelve personnel aspiring to be just as egotistical as their taichou. "Is there anything you can tell me about what kind of creature most likely did this?"

"Your remark about his head looking like a "chew toy" wasn't incorrect at all, but I'm worried at the pattern I'm seeing" Isane answered. "Dogs tend to have duller teeth, so wounds from their jaws tend to exhibit more crushed and torn tissue, as opposed to the puncture wounds more often seen in cat bites, as their teeth are more narrow and needle-like. The wounds on this man, however…"

She gingerly lifted the sheet off the damaged ankle and pointed to different parts of the wounds to illustrate her point.

"We see the same crushing which is consistent with the power of a very large canine's jaws, but we also see deep, wide punctures, almost like those of a jungle cat, but set in the wrong pattern for a feline. And we see the tearing associated with a canine latching onto its target and tugging at it."

Isane's solemn eyes looked up from the body and latched onto Renji's own.

"Your victim was attacked by a very large canine with features not seen on any traditional species. Its teeth are unusually knife-like for a dog, and I'm seeing claw-marks that indicate it doesn't have the typical blunted dog claws, but talons more similar to those seen on a cat or a bird of prey."

"That matches up with what I've got," Akon spoke up from on top of the bar. "Your subordinates picked up hair samples. They are indeed canine, but they also have human elements in the DNA as well. Blood and reiatsu samples they also collected confirm it. And of course if you look around there are some bloody paw prints scattered throughout the room. Seems the critter took off through an upstairs window."

Renji felt an eerie sense of déjà-vu. "You mean…"

The scientist nodded. "Yup. You're sitting next to a werewolf victim."

Just as the words left his mouth, Rikichi ran in through the open front door. "Abarai Fukutaichou! We've got at least eight locals that claim they heard werewolf calls coming from this area sometime after midnight!"

Renji groaned and dropped his throbbing head into his palm, wishing desperately that he _had_ called in sick that morning, as it seemed any chances he had of sleeping his headache away had just flown out the window, but Rikichi wasn't finished.

"We also just got word that three more bodies have been discovered."

Renji sighed and got to his feet, cursing himself for having the foul luck to be the one handed the first confirmed werewolf case in over thirty years.

"Keep processing the crime scene," he addressed the subordinates who had paused in their work when Rikichi had made his announcement. "Isane, Akon, if you would be so good as to come with us and confirm they are related to this case?"

The two nodded, and Akon began to pack up his equipment as Isane replaced the sheet over the body.

"Rikichi, please go ahead and show them where the new bodies were discovered. I'll be along right after I send a hell butterfly back to the Division. We're gonna need a lot more help, and Kuchiki Taichou's going to want to know what we discovered."

"Yes, sir," the youth left with the other two in tow, while Renji started distributing orders to the hell butterflies he'd summoned. One winged away towards the Fourth Division to warn them of the nature of the bodies that would be arriving shortly at their morgue, another flew off in the direction of the First Division to inform Soutaichou of the new developments, and a third flew off to the dispatch office so personnel there could distribute orders for additional Squad Six shinigami to report to District 45.

With the last butterfly he sent a message to Byakuya, informing him that he could limit his archive search to looking for the best methods to root out and slay a werewolf. As the black-winged creature darted off for the Seiretei, Renji couldn't help that lingering sense of déjà-vu that had refused to abate since Akon had informed him just what Ichirou had been killed by.

Something bad was lurking just on the edge of his mind, refusing to come close enough for him to recall what exactly it was. Knowing it was something to do with the bar itself, he lingered for a few minutes, hoping that if he stared at his surroundings long enough, it just might come to him.

Nothing.

Knowing the others were expecting him, he finally grunted with frustration and whirled, stepping out into the absurdly bright and cheerful sunlight and leaving the bar and its murdered owner behind.

As he stalked down the street in the direction the subordinates guarding the _'__Dancing__ Carp__' _indicated Rikichi, Isane, and Akon had gone, Renji hoped that whatever was bothering him about the case would become obvious soon. The last thing he needed was to overlook something and not realize it until it was too late.

**~*~TBC…~*~**

**A/N: Poor Renji. Every time I sit down to write, I can't help but be struck by how much I put these poor boys through with every bunny I come up with. Ah well. Next time- The body count's rising and Byakuya and Renji are feeling the pressure to bring the beast down ASAP, but as they're going to find out, that's far easier said than done…**

**Once again, I'm going to remind those interested in my Byakuya vampire bunny to check out my profile and vote on whether you want to read it regardless of the fact that it's not going to be posted in time to be a Halloween fic, or if you'd rather wait until next Halloween when you're in the monster story mood again. If you don't have an account, an anonymous review to this fic or a PM if you'd rather not vote is fine also. The summary for the vampire fic can be found on my profile if you're checking it out for the first time. **

**Thanks as always to those who take the time to review. Please continue to let me and the muse know how we're doing!**

**Anonymous Review Response: **

**Anon- Tehee, well, Kubo-sensei never said hollows are the only spooks out there you need to watch out for. ^_^ Tough times are ahead indeed for these boys, but it's always great to see how they band together and pull through. (And let's face it—Bya as a werewolf would be HOT! *grin*)**


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